[Incestuous Relationship with a Married Woman] My Online Encounters with a Fifty-Year-Old Female Doctor

It was last autumn, the best season, and my mood lightened with the weather. The boredom of work and the monotony of life left me with excess energy nowhere to go. As a man in my thirties, I should still have aspirations for the future, but the rigid lifestyle was indeed hard to change, creating a sense of oppression. This oppression was like a pesky insect constantly gnawing at my restless heart.

One day, I stumbled upon a chat website called 263.com and found it quite active. The internet provided a relatively tolerant space, and chat rooms seemed to be a gathering place for this kind of mentality, quite direct and efficient. In chat rooms, you could see all sorts of mindsets, but one could easily step into reality. The only obstacle was a wall in people's hearts; whether that wall was strong or not depended entirely on themselves, and whether they could advance or retreat was entirely up to them. I thought everyone who came here was equally bored, and a large portion of them were after what we call romantic relationships. The chat room thrived partly because of this. By

chance, of course, in a chat room, I met her. After several aimless chats, followed by email exchanges, text messages, and eventually phone calls, we got to know each other quite well. She was a doctor, over fifty years old, with a harmonious family, but also a pervasive sense of boredom and repression. Her voice was youthful, seemingly carrying an element of joy, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Perhaps it was this feeling, coupled with my intense curiosity—especially since I hadn't met her online—that made me want to experience meeting her in person. After several requests, she agreed, and the following story unfolded.

She did indeed look over fifty, but had a good figure, a youthful face, and wore no makeup. We chatted for a while, and both of us felt good about it, especially my appearance, which surprised her. Later, we went to her home. What followed happened naturally. I gently wrapped my arms around her and kissed her softly. She didn't resist, and we kissed for a while. Then I buried my head in her chest, rubbing my face against her breasts a few times. To my surprise, her reaction was equally strong. She wrapped her arms tightly around my back, tilted her head back, and let out a soft moan. As if on command, my penis instantly hardened, and all my worries vanished. So I lifted her shirt, pushed up her bra, and revealed her breasts. She silently cooperated, leaning forward and pressing her face against mine. Her breasts weren't large, and her nipples were small, but they were well-shaped and showed no signs of aging. I didn't bother admiring them anymore; I opened my mouth and sucked on one nipple. In just a short while, she went limp. Before I could even switch to the second breast, I had to hold her. Luckily, she was petite, so it didn't feel heavy at all in my lap. I sucked on both of her breasts, and finally kissed them. At that moment, I had completely forgotten her age; I only felt that she was a very charming woman, and indeed, she was a very alluring woman. I gently lifted her and placed her on the bed, removing all her clothes to reveal her body, which seemed disproportionate to her age—a shapely waist, strong legs, and fair skin—everything was laid bare. I pressed my face against her chest and abdomen, caressing my way down to her thighs, gently parting her legs to expose her genitals. She quietly allowed me to do as I pleased. When I gently covered her genitals with my lips, her hands gripped my arm tightly, seemingly trying to pull away, but she quickly gave up under my insistence, only tightening her grip. I parted her labia with my tongue, gently sucking and licking. Then I pressed my face against her lower abdomen and kissed her navel. Slowly moving downwards, I parted the pubic hair, my lips covering her labia again, my tongue gently licking, circling, occasionally probing in and out of her vagina, sometimes sucking tightly on the nipple with my lips, my tongue deftly flicking it. I felt an intense pleasure enveloping her, her body completely out of her control, convulsing involuntarily, wave after wave of orgasm washing over her. I continued to suck, lick, and tease her until she was limp, her vagina overflowing with fluid. At this point, my penis was throbbing painfully, so I got up, turned around, and thrust it into her vagina. Her vagina was tight and deep, but because of the fluid from her recent orgasms, it went smoothly, penetrating her deeply with each thrust, feeling wonderful. At first, she cooperated, but soon she lost control again, collapsing onto the bed, convulsing. My hands roamed over her breasts, my lower body moving rhythmically. I thrust vigorously for a while longer, this time only lasting about ten minutes before finally releasing my pent-up desire inside her. That day, we were intimate for over five hours, releasing three times inside her.

After that first time, our conversations deepened. She said she had never had extramarital sex before; this was her first affair, and it felt like a second youth. From a traditional perspective, women bear the burden of "sacrifice." A woman's marriage is seen as a sacrifice to a man, an obligation inherently tied to his pleasure, with no consideration for her own personal enjoyment—because this is what makes a "good woman." Furthermore, there's the psychological burden of image; the desire for communication clashes with traditional constraints. There's the fear of being seen as unladylike, unreserved, or undignified enough. There's the fear of being seen as a harlot, a wanton woman, a cheap slut, or a whore. What should be said is forbidden, what should be done is forbidden; what should be expressed is suppressed, a state of utter stillness must be maintained. Yet, there's the fear of becoming a block of wood, a constant worry and fear, a tension akin to being in an exam—how can one perform well? Women who have affairs, having taken this step, are less concerned with these views, or simply ignore them. But are men happy? Not necessarily. The pursuit of two people becomes a solitary burden for the man, who, while enjoying himself, also bears an unbearable weight. They often worry that they are not good enough, not masculine enough, not strong enough, not long enough, not thick enough, not hard enough, and unable to last long enough to be victorious. This fear of weakness leads to weakness. Without an erection, one cannot stand tall. The fact that Viagra is touted as miraculous and popular, and that there are so many sex products, is enough to show that men have it even harder than women. At the same time, they are constantly trying to prove themselves stronger than other men. Under the sway of this consciousness, the experience and feeling have long been diluted, and enjoyment has become tasteless.

Regarding this relationship, we seemed to have an unspoken agreement: not to delve into the causes and consequences, but only to experience the feelings and passion at the moment. Because of our significant age difference, which neither of us wanted to discuss, due to societal constraints, this didn't diminish the passion we felt together, especially the strange feeling she gave me, which seemed to become real. Later, whenever we had the chance to be alone, we would indulge ourselves. Although her children are almost as old as me, she is very well-maintained and healthy. She is very capable in bed and often takes the initiative, riding on top of me. We hardly feel the age difference. In particular, she is very experienced and enjoys oral sex. She said she had never experienced it before and didn't know that being licked with a mouth felt so good. Therefore, I always give her oral sex first and help her reach orgasm once or twice.

Our sex was very passionate. Often, as soon as I entered the room, she would cling to me, her arms wrapped tightly around my neck, her mouth constantly kissing me. I would immediately pick her up, and we would go to the bedroom and get into bed, quickly removing our clothes. I would kiss her eyes, her nose, and her lips, my hands gently caressing her breasts. My lips would slowly move to her ears, her neck, and finally to her breasts. I would suckle her nipples like a baby, while my hands caressed her genitals like a wild animal. I would slide my head down to her genitals, first licking her labia majora, then her labia minora, and finally, I would insert my tongue into her vagina. I would let my tongue move in and out of her vagina like a penis, and her genitals would respond with copious amounts of vaginal fluid. She would begin to moan. At first, it was suppressed, but as time went on, her moans grew louder and louder. Her vaginal secretions increased, a sweet and salty taste I had never experienced before, and in large quantities. I swallowed every drop of her fluids. I kissed her from her mouth to her breasts to her lower abdomen, finally stopping at her genitals. Without any shyness, she grabbed my penis and took it into her mouth. We licked and tasted each other in a 69 position. She held my penis in her mouth, gently sliding it up and down. I couldn't help but moan; a warm feeling enveloped my entire body. Experienced women are different. Every movement her mouth made on my penis gave me indescribable pleasure. Her head rose and fell, her lips tightly sucked on my shaft, sucking hard, her tongue circling the shaft, moving back and forth, her teeth gently biting the base of my penis, the squeezing sending a radiant sensation through me.

Her tongue slid from the glans of my penis, slowly moving to the base and then back down, repeating this motion until my entire shaft was covered in her saliva and glistening. Then she went a step further, rubbing my testicles with her hands as if they were toys. I unconsciously started moaning. Perhaps it was my moans that spurred her on, her movements becoming more aggressive. Her tongue swirled in her mouth, her head bobbing up and down, her tongue pressing against the tip of my penis, gently teasing it with the tip, sending a tingling sensation shooting from the glans to my brain. My moans grew louder, and her movements more forceful. Finally, I couldn't hold back any longer, and thick semen gushed out in spurts. She cooperated even more by taking my penis deep into her mouth, her lips reaching the base, swallowing every last drop. A minute or two later, my penis began to soften, but she still held it tightly, ceasing her movements. A few minutes later, I became erect again. She spread her legs, grabbed my penis with her right hand, and aimed it at her vagina. I then thrust my penis into her vagina with all my might, reaching her cervix. She cried out. I used my hands to push her legs towards her head, so that her buttocks and genitals faced me, allowing me to penetrate deeper. I continued to thrust my penis in and out, and she slowly swayed her hips in rhythm with my movements. Our movements became faster and faster, and our breathing and moans grew louder and louder. After a few minutes, we were both a little tired, so we turned over to a side-lying position, where I could play with her breasts from behind. Later, she was on top, and I sat at an angle, my arms around her waist, one breast in my mouth. With each up-and-down movement, her breast was stretched. Her vagina was tight and deep, swallowing me completely, the pleasure was intense, and she was overwhelmed by the penetration and suction. Suddenly, she felt my penis tighten, as if gripped tightly, and she stopped moving, convulsing as if frozen, for over two minutes. At that moment, I felt an electric current run through the base of my penis, and I ejaculated my thick semen into her uterus. We were both exhausted, and I slowly fell into her arms, and she embraced me with her slender hands.

At this age, once you open up your mind, you enjoy sex more, and it's limited to sex; nothing else matters. To be honest, this is what I feel most at ease about, which makes me even more infatuated, especially since she was the third woman I'd been with. Our relationship can be described as a pure male-female relationship. Although the age difference made it very private, it didn't affect the pleasure at all. Because it was pure sex, without money, status, or other factors, the pleasure was even more intense. We'd been together more than ten times, and her feelings had changed drastically. She experienced a qualitative leap, both physically and mentally, even feeling like she'd returned to her youth. Her passion was almost indistinguishable from that of a young girl, fully expressed in her eagerness and thirst. After experiencing this indescribable feeling, she became even more addicted. She also felt that this kind of simple sex was very improper, especially with a young and strong man—purely an old cow eating young grass. But why could men do it? And the age difference had a significant practical meaning in terms of pleasure; as the saying goes, "It's not that you don't know the goods, it's that you don't compare them," which is exactly the point. It was precisely because of my youth and handsomeness that she didn't feel too much regret about having an affair in her old age; it was also this "improperness" that gave her renewed hope for life, and even significantly changed her way of dealing with people. But this state didn't last long, and we broke up.

She gave me a sense that older women have many advantages. First, there's the safety; she won't pressure you into marriage, even if you know love is hopeless, it's a compromise. Second, they're experienced, and when they're being alluring, they're uninhibited and natural, and their physical sensations are no less than younger women's. The charm of a mature woman is something younger women can never possess. Their understanding of life and their appreciation of the meaning of existence are also very optimistic and detached, giving you not only physical pleasure but also a spiritual resonance. Additionally, there are issues like hygiene and the risk of pregnancy—the unavoidable realities and trivialities.

I think this is good for both of us; it's not psychologically abnormal, much less despicable. We haven't shirked our family responsibilities, nor have we affected anyone else's life. In reality, deep within us lies an indescribable hunger, an eternal desire that never fades. Even when one desire is satisfied, a lustful person still anticipates the rise of another. Here, there is no distinction between age and gender. Who your partner is is unimportant, and age is irrelevant. For an addict, what matters is the desire itself, the experience, the pursuit of pleasure. This desire is no longer just simple sexual lust; it's an attempt to cope with a hopeless life, a search for comfort and resonance. It encompasses the emotions of different roles—wife, lover, even mother—and includes passion, affection, and attachment. Many men, regardless of age or status, harbor a certain expectation of maternal love in the arms of the woman they love. The fascination with women's breasts is a manifestation of this subconscious. Undeniably, I am too. And I know I am deeply infatuated with it. My gaze towards mature women is so tender; their graceful figures and mature charm bring me solace.

Although people seem restless and impatient for quick success, there will always be those who refuse to seek supermarket-style emotions. People are no longer accustomed to experiencing the true meaning of love in solitude. That unwavering resilience in the face of emotions, the persistence that flows into rivers, and the deep longing for the sea seem to have vanished in reality; at best, it's a yearning for an ideal. The brevity and impermanence of life have led people to instinctively understand the meaning of "living in the moment." Moreover, deep within everyone's consciousness, there are more or less unrealistic fantasies about what they possess. Under normal circumstances, people don't easily take risks, but when external and internal conditions permit, the probability of such extraordinary events increases significantly. That tangible experience makes you feel your own existence—a rather pathetic reality.

In moments of quiet reflection, I sometimes think that her appearance wasn't random or accidental. It was precisely because I harbored a longing within me, an undying passion, and energy that had been accumulating but hadn't been released. Whoever she was, she was bound to come sooner or later, like a nail driven into my world, as if sent by God specifically to consume and eliminate the latent energy, passion, impulses, and anticipation of the unexpected within me, allowing me to peacefully accept what I already have. She also took away that smug sense of self-righteousness I once took pride in regarding my moral integrity, making me more aware of myself than I am now, forcing me to confront my own soul.

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) [The End]

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[Incestuous Relationship with a Married Woman] My Online Encounters with a Fifty-Year-Old Female Doctor

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